Chosen Girl and the Rise of Voldemort
by AnimationNut
Summary: As Charlotte Potter attends her sixth year, Voldemort is preparing for war. With his rise to power, a potions book penned with notes by a prodigy and gathering knowledge about how Tom Riddle became Lord Voldemort, Charlie has her hands full. She knows her time is running out, but her friends won't let her face the darkness alone. Sequel to Chosen Girl and the Umbridge Rebellion.
1. Of Dursleys and Dumbledore

**I do not own Harry Potter.**

 **Here we are, the sixth installment of the** _ **Chosen Girl**_ **series. Not going to lie, this book is my least favourite, so let's see what happens, ha ha. I know it's been a while, but I hope you'll join me for yet another journey.**

* * *

 **Of Dursleys and Dumbledore**

The tawny owl sat on the edge of the window sill, ruffling its feathers as it waited patiently. A white cat stretched out on the end of the bed, eyeing the bird closely. Snowflake might have attempted to leap at it, but her owner was right beside her and she would not approve of such behaviour.

Charlotte Potter read the short letter that had been delivered to her, hardy daring to believe her good fortune. It was a message from Dumbledore, informing her that he would come to pick her up in three days' time to take her to the Burrow, where one of her best friends lived with his large family, if she was willing. She quickly scribbled an answer at the bottom of the parchment and handed it back to the owl, where it spread its wings and flew off to deliver it.

"Well," she said aloud, reaching over to pull down her bedroom window, preventing the air-conditioning from escaping into the humid summer evening. "That didn't take long at all."

Charlie expected that she would spend some of her summer vacation at the Weasleys, but not so soon, considering they were a little over two weeks into the holidays. She wondered briefly about the other bit of information Dumbledore had included in his letter, requesting her assistance with an errand, but didn't dwell too much on it. She would find out in three days and now she had more pressing matters to attend to.

As in informing her magic-hating relatives that once again there would be a wizard appearing at their home.

Running her fingers through her tangled raven hair, Charlie heaved out a sigh of dread and ventured out of her room. She skipped down the stairs and glanced into the living room, where she was not surprised to see her uncle and cousin parked in front of the television. She could hear her aunt bustling around in the kitchen, no doubt scrubbing the countertops until they gleamed.

"Um, Uncle Vernon—"

"What are you standing there for?" he barked, predictably cutting her off before she finished her sentence. "Go help your aunt in the kitchen! She shouldn't be cleaning up your mess, ungrateful girl."

With a serenity and patience mastered after sixteen years of living under Dursley rule, Charlie merely nodded and walked into the kitchen. Petunia eyed her beadily when she entered, mouth twisting into a sharp frown.

"I don't want see a single speck of dirt," she ordered, thrusting over her rubber gloves and cleaning supplies.

"I know." Charlie snapped on the gloves and took over the chore of washing the food-encrusted dishes. "Everything must sparkle."

"Don't get smart with me. It's about time you helped out around here."

Charlie did not offer a rebuttal, for while she did more than her fair share of work over the years, she had been spending most of her time in her room this particular summer. "I know," she repeated. "Er, Aunt Petunia…"

The woman paused near the kitchen entryway. "What?" she asked without turning her head.

Her tone of voice was suspicious, as though she knew she was about to hear something she would not like. There were many unflattering words to describe her aunt, but Charlie would never call her stupid. She knew much more than she let on.

"I received a letter a few minutes ago. Professor Dumbledore said he was going to come around in three days, at eleven at night."

She didn't bother asking if Petunia remembered who Dumbledore was—considering the man was the one who delivered her to Number Four Privet Drive when she was a baby, she didn't think she would forget him anytime soon. The way her aunt's face rapidly paled, she knew she was right.

"He's coming here?" she hissed furiously. "What for?"

"He's going to bring me to the Burrow, where my friend lives. I'm going to spend the rest of my summer there."

Petunia's face gained a tiny bit of colour, the prospect of having Charlie out of house much sooner than expected minutely easing the blow of the unwanted news of yet another magical visitor. For most of the year the Dursleys could pretend they were a normal family, and the longer they could stretch that façade out the better.

"Why does he have to come here?" she asked sharply. "Why can't you meet him somewhere?"

Charlie shrugged. "I'm not really supposed to leave the house."

She didn't give a reason why, but Petunia understood, and the atmosphere morphed into a tense silence. Petunia knew of Voldemort, and while she didn't know the details, she comprehended the danger Voldemort presented and that was more than enough.

"I don't like riff-raff thinking they can intrude on my house whenever they feel like it," Petunia said with a scowl. "This is all your fault."

"Yeah. Sorry. I don't think he'll stay long. I don't really have a way to tell him he can't drop by."

Charlie didn't bother to mention that she had a choice in the matter and that she didn't have to go to the Weasleys. But she figured that despite the increase in magical people trespassing into their home, the Dursleys would suffer through if it meant she would be out of their sight earlier than anticipated. She also didn't bother to mention that she could mentally contact Harry Lupin to send word of declination, her twin brother with which she shared a telepathic connection. It would require too much explanation and she decided that it would be best for everyone if her relatives never learned of a second Potter child. They would have a breakdown and she doubted Harry would be able to withstand their arrogance for even five minutes.

"Do you want me to tell Uncle Vernon?"

"No," said Petunia immediately. "I'll do it."

She swept out of the kitchen and Charlie continued cleaning, awaiting the outburst. It was barely two minutes later when her uncle barrelled into the space, purple-faced and shouting, while Dudley watched from the doorway. Charlie endured the screams and insults and eventually Vernon blustered himself out. Grumbling under his breath, he stormed back into the living room, because Charlie suspected that deep down he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

A couple hours later she finished cleaning, the entire kitchen glittering under the fluorescent lighting. She brought a tray of tea and small cakes into the living room and set it quietly on the coffee table in front of her relatives before retreating upstairs. She felt the hostility decrease into simmering anger, and she figured she appeased them somewhat.

She hadn't spent over a decade under their roof without learning some tricks.

…

On the evening of Dumbledore's arrival, Charlie sat in her wooden chair next to the window. She was currently reading the _Daily Prophet_ , having finished the Muggle newspaper and leaving it to sit on her desk. She flicked her gaze from the article to the darkening sky through the glass pane. Though she felt some excitement over her soon-to-be freedom, it was dampened by the news she was reading.

The Brockdale bridge collapsing, the sudden hurricane tearing through West Country. The bridge was under investigation to see if there was a failure in parts, but Charlie knew. A whole bridge in good shape did not just crumble by itself, and the thick mist that appeared during the hurricane was not natural. Charlie grit her teeth together, fingers digging into the paper. Now that Voldemort had been exposed, he wasn't trying to be discreet any longer. He was on a rampage and not even the Muggle world was safe.

She thrust the _Daily Prophet_ aside and let her head fall back, eyes closing. Amelia Bones, who had supported her when Fudge tried to expel her from Hogwarts last year, had been killed. So had Emmeline Vance, who had been a member of the Order and helped her get out of Privet Drive. Cornelius Fudge had been fired from his position and Rufus Scrimgeour, whose name she had heard a few times over the year, had taken his place.

Despite not telling anyone about her exploits at the Ministry of Magic more than a month ago, the news had broken out, though she was not surprised. Over a dozen Aurors had seen her and Voldemort, and though no one knew the whole story, people had liberty to make their own connections. A reporter caught wind of the Hall of Prophecy and though no Ministry worker confirmed its existence, people were beginning to believe that it was a sign. She had been promoted from the Girl-Who-Lived to the Chosen One.

It left an uncomfortable feeling in her gut.

Included with the _Daily Prophet_ was a pamphlet on practices to protecting against the Dark forces. Charlie skimmed over it and was disappointed when she found it not very helpful. But she supposed she shouldn't be so critical. There was only so much you could do against the most powerful wizard in existence.

' _Everything okay?'_

Harry's voice cut through her brooding and she startled slightly. _'Geez. I wish there was a warning to know when you're going to talk to me.'_

' _I figured you'd still be up. You're pretty miserable for someone who is about to come party at the Burrow.'_

' _Sorry. Didn't mean to spread my dark mood. I was reading the newspaper.'_

' _It's not looking so good. But there's nothing you can do about it.'_

' _That's what makes it ten times worse. I'm helpless. Voldemort is out there and I'll be going back to school soon enough. It doesn't seem right.'_

' _Newspapers like the drama. You don't have to take the Chosen One stuff seriously.'_

' _You know the prophecy. It's me. There's no one else.'_

' _Worrying about it now isn't going to help. I'm sure you'll know when the time is right. The fact that you so badly want to go against Voldemort as soon as possible is so brave.'_

' _But charging into battle without a plan is as good as a death wish. I know, I know.'_ Charlie gave her head a slight shake. _'I think too much, but hey, I'm a Ravenclaw. I am happy to get to see you and the others. Have I missed anything?'_

' _Not really. Everyone's really anxious to see you, though. Dobby is practically dancing around the place.'_

The streetlight in front of the Dursley household suddenly went out, plunging the area into pure darkness. Charlie got out of her chair grabbed hold of her trunk and cat carrier, starting to drag them out of her bedroom. _'Professor Dumbledore is here. I'll see you shortly.'_

' _See you!'_

Charlie jogged down the stairs, her trunk clattering against the steps. When she reached the landing she set her carrier on top and rested her broomstick against the wall just as the doorbell rang. She quickly answered it and swung the door open.

"Hello, Charlotte," Dumbledore greeted pleasantly. A quick once-over reassured the man that she was fine. "I expect you have told your relatives of my arrival?"

"Yeah. They're in the living room."

"Wonderful. Let us join them."

Eyes widening a fraction, Charlie stepped aside to let Dumbledore in. "Um…" She eyed him hesitantly, from his black cloak and pointed hat to his impressive silver beard. She knew full well the Dursleys would not appreciate Dumbledore staying for a chat, but she also knew that Dumbledore was well aware of this. "Okay."

She let Dumbledore go first and flinched at the choked splutter of her uncle at his appearance. She hastily moved to stand beside her headmaster, eyeing her shocked relatives warily. "Hello," said Dumbledore with a nod. "I am Albus Dumbledore, as I am sure Charlotte has told you."

"She said you were taking her and that was that," said Vernon bluntly, face turning red.

"I shall, but there are some matters we must discuss first." Dumbledore looked to see Petunia appearing in the kitchen entryway, lips in a thin line. "Ah, and you must be Petunia."

Considering that Dumbledore sent her an exploding letter a year ago, Charlie was not surprised her aunt was not happy to see him. Vernon stood stiffly in the middle of the living room, Petunia going by his side. Dudley, dressed in his pajamas, eyed Dumbledore with a gaping mouth and scuttled around him to join his parents.

"I will pretend that you have invited me to sit," said Dumbledore, not fazed by their rudeness. He took a seat in the armchair by the fireplace and gave his wand a flick, sending the sofa flying and knocking into the Dursleys, sending them falling back into the cushions. "No reason to stand there uncomfortably."

Biting her lip in an attempt not to laugh at the stunned expressions on their faces, Charlie went to stand behind them, in case she had to curb any unpleasant behaviour. She glanced at Dumbledore and noticed that his right hand was blackened and shrivelled and her heart stuttered in her chest. She wanted to ask what had happened, but knew that this was not the right time.

"Since it would be foolish of me to assume you will offer refreshments, I shall be more than happy to do so." With another flick of his wand a bottle of mead and several glasses appeared. Charlie caught the glass that zoomed towards her. The Dursleys sat in terror, ignoring the glasses that were knocking against the sides of their heads.

"The Order of the Phoenix has come across a problem that we hope you can solve, Charlotte. But before we get into that, I must tell you that we discovered Sirius' will a week ago. Thanks to his distrust of Ministry officials because of his false imprisonment, he chose to do it without the proper legal channels, which leaves us without dealing with the troublesome Ministry interference. He left everything to you."

Charlie barely noticed Vernon perk up at that, her stomach dipping at the mention of her deceased godfather. "Okay," she muttered, uncertain of what to say.

"Her godfather's dead?" her uncle demanded.

It occurred to Charlie that she had not informed her relatives of her godfather's death, but she had not thought that they needed to know. Dumbledore saved her from answering by saying, "Yes." That was all he said about the matter and continued, "Sirius left you his savings, which has already been transferred to your account, and all of his possessions. The problem we have faced is that he left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place."

"She has a house?" asked Vernon, eyes glinting greedily.

"You can have it, if you want," Charlie directed at Dumbledore. "It can still be headquarters. I don't really want it anyway."

Being granted a house to live in by herself was something out of her dreams, and if the circumstances had been different she would have been elated. But she couldn't stand the thought of living in those rooms, walking the corridors, knowing that Sirius should have been with her. She'd rather live with the Dursleys than have to face those darkened halls alone.

"I am grateful for that, but currently we have vacated the premises."

"What's wrong?" asked Charlie, exasperation growing at her relatives' persistence and the glasses smacking into their heads. She nimbly reached out and collected the drinks, moving to set them on the top of the mantle.

"The house has belonged to generations of Blacks. We cannot be certain if there have been enchantments placed to prevent an outsider from gaining ownership. If that is the case, the house will go to the last of Sirius' living relatives, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Charlie's blood ran cold. While she didn't want the house, there was no way she was going to let his killer inherit it. "How are we supposed to tell if it's mine or not?"

"Easily. If you have inherited the house, then you have also inherited Kreacher."

With another flick of his wand a creature appeared, with reddened eyes and ears akin to a bat. At the sight of Charlie, Kreacher threw himself to the floor and started shouting, "Kreacher won't do it! Kreacher only serves the noble Blacks! Kreacher won't serve a filthy half-blood!"

As he pounded his fists against the carpet, the Dursleys recoiled in horror. "What is it?" shrieked Petunia.

"It's okay!" said Charlie, speaking loudly over Kreacher's cries. "It's just a house-elf."

"A _what_?"

"Never mind, just ignore him." Charlie turned back to Kreacher with some resentment. It was because of his lies that she rushed off to the Ministry in the first place, and why Sirius came after her. But she knew that giving to Kreacher to Bellatrix was a disastrous move. "What do I have to do?" she asked hesitantly.

"If you give him an order and he obeys, the problem is solved. But if not, we are going to have to figure out another means of keeping Kreacher away from his mistress."

A particular loud scream from Kreacher caused Charlie to flinch. "Kreacher, please, be quiet!"

Kreacher jolted, his hands flying to his throat. He choked for a moment, unable to make a sound, and he flattened to the floor, angry tears in his eyes. Dumbledore beamed. "Well now, that's all we needed to know. Number twelve Grimmauld Place and Kreacher are yours."

Charlie eyed the house-elf, feeling a sudden stab of pity. Being angry at him would not fix anything. He was who he was because of the behaviour and treatment of the wizards he served. Sirius had mistreated him, and though Charlie did not fault him for it, she knew it wasn't right. Maybe she could fix the damage generations of Blacks had caused.

"Does he have to stay there alone?" she asked. "Dobby works in the kitchens when I'm at school. Maybe he could help out too."

Dumbledore gave an approving nod. "That's a lovely idea."

"Kreacher, I would like you to work in the Hogwarts kitchens," she said gently. "Dobby will help you if you need it."

With a glower of hatred, Kreacher obeyed. With that taken care of, Dumbledore glanced at Charlie and said, "I believe you are all packed, yes?"

"Yes sir."

"Then in a moment, we shall be off." Facing the Dursleys, he continued, "In a year, Charlotte will come of age."

"No, she won't," spoke Petunia, causing Charlie to blink in surprise. "She's a month younger than Dudley. She won't turn eighteen for another two years."

"That is true. However, in the wizarding world, children become adults at the age of seventeen," informed Dumbledore. "As I am sure Charlotte has told you, Lord Voldemort has returned. The magical world is at war. Voldemort's prime target is Charlotte, who he has tried to kill on many occasions. She is in great danger. More so than she was when I left her on your doorstep all those years ago. I had hoped that you would raise Charlotte as part of your family."

The air in the room chilled by several degrees, though Dumbledore's expression remained calm. "You have ignored her, mistreated her, starved her and forced her to do more labour than any child should. My only consolation for leaving her with you is that she did not turn out to be like her unfortunate cousin."

"What do you mean by that?" blustered Vernon.

"Your home has been protected by magic I evoked fifteen years ago," continued Dumbledore, speaking as if Vernon had not said anything. "Despite the misery and loneliness you put Charlotte through, she calls this place home, because she understands the risks you took by taking her in, however grudgingly. When given the chance to live with her godfather, she turned it down, determined to return to this place and ensure you would be protected. When she turns seventeen, the magic will expire. I ask that you allow her to return for a period of time next summer, before her birthday, so that the magic will continue until the time is up."

There was a period of silence. Vernon glared at the floor, seeming as if he was no longer able to speak. Petunia's cheeks were flushed, a small frown on her features. Dudley was looking between his parents, brow furrowed in confusion.

"It is time for us to be off." Dumbledore stood, smoothing out his cloak. "Until next time."

He swept out of the room and Charlie followed after him, lingering in the doorway for a moment. "I'll see you next summer," she said, waving a hand in farewell. "Like Professor Dumbledore said, the magic will protect you. I've been here long enough to keep it going. You'll be safe. Um, so, see you later."

She hurried into the entrance hall and stood next to Dumbledore. "I will send these to the Burrow to await your arrival," he said. "But first, it would be best if you remove your Invisibility Cloak."

Charlie complied and her stuff was sent away. Dumbledore opened the front door, leading into the dark night, and said, "Let us go, Charlotte, and see what waits for us."


	2. Recruiting Horace Slughorn

**I do not own Harry Potter. Charlotte is my OC.**

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 **Recruiting Horace Slughorn**

Dumbledore and Charlie walked down Privet Drive, the empty streetlights bursting back to life once they passed by. Dumbledore shifted his gaze slightly to study the teen, who was paler and skinnier than he wanted, which always tended to be the case every time she stayed with her relatives. She did not notice his intent look, her emerald eyes staring straight ahead, fingers brushing against her wand, which was sticking out of her front pocket.

It was the set of her face that struck him to his core, that made him wish he could remove her pain and her horrors with a flick of his wand. As they moved down the quiet road, her eyes darted back and forth, searching the shadows for threats. Her fingers danced an anxious rhythm, as if preparing to use her wand with nothing but a split second of notice. There were faint bags beneath her eyes, lips curled in a soft frown, her posture steely and determined.

Charlotte was ready for war, and it disturbed Dumbledore more than it should have, especially considering he knew what she had to do, what he had to prepare her for.

"Sir?" she spoke. "Where exactly are we going?"

"Budleigh Babberton."

The name did not ring a bell. Before Charlie could ask more questions, Dumbledore extended his arm, his injured one held carefully by his side.

"You have yet to pass your Apparition test, so hold on tightly, please."

Charlie complied and once she got a solid hold Dumbledore Apparated. Everything went black and Charlie felt a heavy pressure on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. It lasted only a second but it felt like a minute, and when they reappeared she found herself on the ground gasping for air.

Dumbledore stood over her and assisted her with standing. "It's a very unpleasant sensation, but once you pass your Apparition test, the sensation will become familiar."

"Great," said Charlie weakly, idly touching her fingers to her temple as her head ached.

Dumbledore followed the gesture, his blue eyes flashing briefly to her scar. "Have you had any problems with your scar this summer, Charlotte?"

"Not really," she answered honestly. "Not as much as it used to, anyway."

Dumbledore smiled, satisfied at this. "I thought as much. It seems Voldemort has realized that you having access to his thoughts and desires is more dangerous than advantageous."

It made sense, considering Voldemort's greatest plan involving implanting fake visions into her mind had backfired considerably. Charlie nodded in response, both relieved and unnerved by this. She didn't miss the terrifying dreams or intense emotional surges in the slightest. But there had been something oddly…reassuring, she supposed, about being able to feel Voldemort's current state of emotion, to witness his rages and see what made him tic, to have clues to what he planned to do next in his reign of terror.

Giving her head a slight shake to clear her troubled thoughts, Charlie gave a good look around for the first time. They were in a deserted village, the streetlights blinking feebly. There was a church across the way and a line of shops along the street. They were currently standing in the village square.

"What do we need to do here?" she asked curiously.

"There is someone I wish to speak with. Yet again we are one staff member short and the list of applicants has grown considerably smaller over the years. I hope to convince one of my old colleagues to come out of retirement."

Charlie wasn't sure how she could help with that, but she figured it was only fair, considering she was the reason the last Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had left Hogwarts. Not that she was sorry about running Dolores Umbridge out of the castle. In fact, recalling Peeves chasing her down with a walking stick made her want to grin.

They walked down a narrow street, where all the houses were dark. "So…I read in the _Daily Prophet_ that Mr. Fudge was fired," spoke Charlie.

"You sound sympathetic," observed Dumbledore.

"Well…I won't say he didn't have it coming to him. He could have done more, shouldn't have purposefully been ignorant." Charlie reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "But fear affects people differently. I believe he cares about people and he honestly did what he thought was best, even if it wasn't right. Voldemort would've risen to power anyway, and any measures Mr. Fudge took would have barely slowed him down. He shouldn't have kept such crucial information from the public. But he was quick to change tact when he saw Voldemort for himself, did as much damage control as he could."

"That's very forgiving, especially after all the accusations he aimed at you."

"I just remember the first time I met him, how nice and friendly he was. I think that's who he is, when fear and paranoia doesn't have a tight hold."

Dumbledore was once more awed by her ability to understand a person's character, to forgive despite the pain and turmoil she had been put through. He knew he would have no problems convincing his old colleague to return to Hogwarts, certainly not when he had Charlotte with him.

"Rufus Scrimgeour—do you think he'll be a good Minister?"

Brought from his musings, Dumbledore glanced at the girl. He could see the underlying uncertainty behind her curious eyes, the desire to be reassured that the wizarding world was in good hands. "He's certainly more forceful than Cornelius," he replied. "He's spent a career fighting Dark wizards, and he knows none of them compare to Voldemort."

Charlie gave a nod. She recalled a piece of the article stating that Dumbledore and Scrimgeour had had a disagreement soon after Scrimgeour took office. She knew better than to believe in rumours, but she couldn't help but wonder.

"Have you received the Ministry's pamphlet on security measures to enforce against Death Eaters?"

"Yeah," she answered.

"What did you think of it?"

"Er—it's okay. I just wish…there was more."

"There's only so much an average wizard can do, I'm afraid. But they are good practices to follow. You did not bother to see if I was an imposter."

Charlie blinked at that. "Oh. I didn't even think of it. You acted exactly like you and, well, you're rather inimitable, sir."

Amusement glinted in Dumbledore's eyes. "That's very kind of you. It is still good practice to utilize these security measures, nonetheless. It is not so easy to identify if people are who they claim to be, if they are what they seem."

 _Don't I know it,_ thought Charlie feelingly. She thought of other questions she wanted to ask, while she had Dumbledore alone and in a relatively answering mood. She wanted desperately to ask about his injured hand, but had a feeling if she was meant to know he would tell her about it in time. Instead she asked, "There was a term in the pamphlet I didn't recognize. Inferi. What is that?"

"Corpses. Dead bodies who have been bewitched by Dark wizards to do their bidding. They are normally never seen, and there hasn't been a sighting since Voldemort was last in power. He killed enough people to have an army."

Charlie's heart leapt into her throat, horror twisting at her gut. She never dwelled too much on how just how many lives Voldemort had taken, but the knowledge that he had gone so far as to manipulate his victims' corpses was revolting.

"Ah, we are here."

Charlie managed to remove herself from her thoughts and glance up. They reached a small stone cottage and when they reached the front gate, they noticed the door was dangling from its hinges. "This is problematic," Dumbledore muttered softly. "Wand at the ready, Charlotte."

Extending out her wand, Charlie followed after him. She automatically cast a glance up at the night sky, brow furrowing at the blank darkness. As far as she knew, Death Eaters finished off their attacks with the Dark Mark. So why was there nothing there?

Dumbledore lit the tip of his wand once they stepped inside the house. They ventured down the narrow hallway and into the living room, where Charlie's eyes widened at the destruction. The grandfather clock lay across the floor, splintered into bits. Shelves hung off the walls and knick-knacks scattered across the floor. Glass shards were everywhere, furniture was overturned and there was a red substance scattered across the wall.

"It seems like something horrible has taken place here," said Dumbledore quietly. He walked carefully across the room, pausing next to an overstuffed armchair. "Hmm…"

He suddenly stuck the tip of his wand into the cushion of the seat and Charlie jumped back when the chair cried out in pain. The armchair vanished and in its place was an overweight, balding man, who was rubbing his large gut.

"There was no reason to poke me so hard," he said indigently, standing up slowly. "How did you know that was me?"

Dumbledore smiled. "I am afraid you forgot a crucial part of this enactment, Horace. Death Eaters never fail to leave their calling piece."

Horace's eyes widened with realization. "Blast, the Dark Mark. Had a feeling I was missing something. Suppose it doesn't matter anyhow, since I barely finished this disaster by the time you reached the door."

"Would you like a hand in cleaning up?"

"If you don't mind."

Charlie watched as the two wizards waved their wands in a synchronized motion. She had to duck as bits and pieces flew through the air, forming back together and landing on tabletops and shelf surfaces. The grandfather cloak heaved up against the wall, loud chimes echoing in the space. Soon everything was back in place, no trace of the disaster scene Horace had turned his room into.

Horace turned around to set a few vials on his shelf, and as he did his eyes landed on Charlie for the first time since their arrival. A miniscule smile appearing on his features for a brief moment, Dumbledore moved to set a hand against a bemused Charlie's shoulder. "Charlotte, this is my former colleague Horace Slughorn."

Charlie's first instinct was to introduce herself, but by the way he was gaping at her scar, he was well aware of who she was. "Nice to meet you," she said politely.

Her voice seemed to snap him out of his gazing and he turned to Dumbledore with a sharp frown. "Very crafty, Dumbledore, very crafty. But this won't work, I tell you now. I'm not coming out of retirement."

"Very well then," said Dumbledore, looking unbothered. "But it has been a while since we've last seen each other. I don't suppose we could have a drink?"

Slughorn looked torn for a second, and finally gave a huff of air and muttered, "Fine, fine. Just a quick one."

As he went off to collect the beverages, Dumbledore ushered Charlie over to an armchair. Charlie obediently sat down, bewildered. She had the feeling she was missing something, from the knowing glint in Dumbledore's eyes and the way Slughorn tried to avoid looking at her.

A few minutes later Slughorn returned with a tray of tea. He gave Dumbledore a cup and thrust the tray at Charlie without meeting her gaze. Charlie hastily grabbed hold before anything could spill to the floor and rested it against her knees. A moment of silence passed, with Dumbledore drinking his tea serenely and Slughorn sitting stiffly, probably wishing they would just leave.

"How have you been Horace?"

"Achy," the man replied. "Having trouble breathing. These old bones don't work like they used to."

"Come now, you're not as old as I. You certainly moved quick enough to put on that grand display."

"I suppose," said Slughorn, unable to mask his pride at his quick manoeuvering. "You ought to consider retiring as well, Dumbledore. You could stand some rest and recovery."

His eyes strayed to Dumbledore's blackened hand and Dumbledore raised it slightly. It was then Charlie noticed the odd-looking ring adorned on his finger, the band made of gold and an ominous black stone lodged in the middle, a crack running down the middle. Her brow furrowed, wondering where Dumbledore had gotten such a piece of jewellery. She couldn't recall ever seeing it before, and for some reason, it gave her an unsettling feeling…

"All these security measures you took can't be because of me. Hiding from the Death Eaters, Horace?"

Slughorn bristled slightly, discomfort crossing his features. "Of course not. What would they want with an elderly wizard like myself?"

"Your great intellect and skills, to be used for all the horrible things Death Eaters enjoy doing. They haven't tried to recruit you yet?"

"They haven't found me to be able to ask," returned Slughorn. "You don't decline an offer from the Death Eaters and survive. I've been on the move constantly for over a year. Stick mostly to Muggle neighbourhoods. Use charms and spells to alert me to intruders."

"If you were to come to Hogwarts—"

"Absolutely not," cut in Slughorn, not giving Dumbledore a chance to finish his proposal. "I've done my time at that school, Dumbledore, and if I'm to be honest I'm a bit wary about how you handle your staff. Heard some rumours about Dolores Umbridge getting on the bad side of the centaurs."

"I am afraid she did not have the sense to refrain from calling them filthy, disgusting half-breeds."

Slughorn's bushy eyebrow flew upwards. "Foolish woman. Never liked her."

"Me either," muttered Charlie. When both wizards turned to look at her, she flushed and added, "It was my fault she got taken by the centaurs. I sort of tricked her into the Forbidden Forest. She and I, we don't get along. I can't stand her, actually."

Sensing his opportunity, Dumbledore stood up and asked, "May I use your bathroom, Horace?"

"Down the hall," directed Slughorn, seeming a bit annoyed. When Dumbledore left, he stood and went to stand by the fireplace. "I know exactly what he's doing, and it won't work," he warned Charlie, who only blinked in bewilderment. Her emerald eyes were striking, and Slughorn could not help but regard her. "I see your father's distinctive features passed down. You look remarkably like him. But your eyes…"

"Are all my mother's," finished Charlie with a tiny smile. "Yeah. I hear it all the time."

"She was my favourite student, your mother," mused Slughorn. "She was smart, charming, cunning and spirited. I always thought she would have been better suited for my House, and I always told her so. Never failed to have a retort."

"Which was your House?" asked Charlie curiously.

Slughorn shifted his gaze to the girl. "Slytherin. I was the Head of House when I was teaching."

He expected a grimace, a soft scowl or a look of wary suspicious that most people did whenever he revealed he was a Slytherin. But she gave a nod of acknowledgement, sincere smile still in place. Seeming to notice the surprise on his face from her positive reaction, she admitted, "I don't have the best record when it comes to interacting with Slytherins. But I can't automatically dislike and dismiss every Slytherin I meet. That wouldn't be right."

"I don't suppose you'd be in Gryffindor like your parents?" asked Slughorn with intrigue.

Charlie shook her head. "Ravenclaw. But I definitely have Gryffindor tendencies. I'm just a tad more curious than I am brave."

"You inherited your mother's brains, I see. Family members normally belong to the same House, but it's not uncommon for them to separate. Take Sirius Black for example—"

He cut himself off, suddenly remembering that the falsely convicted man had been revealed in his obituary to be the godfather of the Girl-Who-Lived. Charlie felt her chest clench, but she managed to keep the smile as she said, "It's fine. What about Sirius?"

Slughorn cleared his throat. "Him and his brother—it was quite astonishing. Every member of the Black family has been in the Slytherin House, and Sirius made it into Gryffindor. I would have liked to have Regulus and him together."

Charlie tilted her head to side, not missing his wistful gaze.

"I was stunned when I found out your mother was Muggle-born," he continued. "She was the best in her year. Could have sworn she was a pure-blood. Rather funny how it sometimes works out."

"Blood doesn't make a witch or wizard," she said lightly, thinking of Hermione.

"Certainly not. Why, along with your mother there was Dirk Cresswell. He ended up being Head of Goblin Liaison Office. He was a gifted Muggle-born, tells me all the inside information of Gringotts."

He pointed at the collection of pictures on his mantle, held in glittering frames. Charlie listened as he spoke proudly of each of them, former students who went on to do great things and sent him free stuff. He faltered after he revealed he was sent free Quidditch tickets for the Harpies, and Charlie had the feeling he was recalling that, with his secretive existence, he had fallen out of touch with all of them.

"Taking a position at Hogwarts would be the equivalent of declaring my allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix, brave as they are. The mortality rate isn't very favourable, and I'm not as young as I used to be."

Charlie felt a stab of annoyance at that, unable to keep the picture of Sirius losing his life in a battle against Voldemort's army. But she gave her head a slight shake, knowing that one of the Slytherin House traits was self-preservation. And he was probably scared. He had every right to be.

 _Some people aren't meant to be heroes in battle,_ she reminded herself quietly.

"Considering how hard you're working to keep the Death Eaters from locating you, I think they probably have a good idea of where your loyalties lie, and they're not with Voldemort," she pointed out. She wasn't surprised when Slughorn gave a violent jerk at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. "Hogwarts is the safest place you can be. Only a few of the staff are a part of the Order of the Phoenix. Professor Dumbledore was the only Voldemort ever feared, right?"

Slughorn stared at her for a moment. "That's true," he said at last.

It was then Dumbledore returned. "Sorry for making you wait. I was engrossed in those Muggle magazines. Are you ready, Charlotte?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well then Horace, I thank you for hosting us. A shame you're not interested in the position. But you're welcome to visit throughout the year, if you desire."

Slughorn shot his gaze between Dumbledore and Charlie, seemingly having an internal struggle before his face set with decisiveness. "Oh fine! You win, Dumbledore. I'll accept your offer."

Dumbledore beamed. "Wonderful! We'll see you on the first of September. Have a nice evening, Horace."

"Bye," spoke Charlie.

Slughorn gave a grunt of acknowledge, clearly not happy that he had lost the battle. The two left the house and set off down the path. Dumbledore turned to the raven-haired girl with a smile. "Very good, Charlotte. I couldn't have done it without your help."

"Professor Slughorn seems to like the talented, gifted and famous," said Charlie carefully. "I suppose you knew he would be tempted to return if Charlotte Potter was there to persuade him."

"Horace certainly likes living in luxury. He never wanted to be famous himself, but rather reap the benefits fame and status brings. He chose favourite students, those with traits that you mentioned, but also those he had a feeling would turn out to be the best in whatever field they chose. It was a knack he had. He was not tempted to return to Hogwarts merely because you're Charlotte Potter. He took a liking to you, which I expected. You're a very likeable person. Did you like him?"

"Sure," answered Charlie. "I don't really like the fact that he chooses favourites to take advantage of their privileges later on in life. But I guess that's the Slytherin in him—cunning. I think he's nice."

"I concur. But I caution you to be on your guard, for having the Chosen One as part of his collection would be the most magnificent and rare jewel in his crown."

Charlie nodded. She felt her body turn cold when Dumbledore referred to her as the Chosen One, a responsibility that weighed down her shoulders and caused her heart to race. Dumbledore paused once more in the village square and held out his arm. Charlie closed her eyes as they Apparated to the Burrow, the comforting home shrouded by shadows.

"If you would grace me a few more minutes of your presence, I would like to speak with you privately."

Charlie followed Dumbledore into the Weasley's old shed. Closing the door behind them, Dumbledore regarded Charlie intently. "You have fared very well, Charlotte, after the events at the Ministry."

Knowing what he meant, Charlie swallowed the lump that suddenly grew in her throat. "There's not much I can do. I can't run away. I can't pretend nothing is happening. Sirius wouldn't have wanted that."

"He wouldn't," agreed Dumbledore softly. "I know it is cruel, how short a time you got to spend with one another."

"It's not fair," whispered Charlie. "But it's also not fair that Angelina's parents had to bury their daughter. It's not fair that Emmeline Vance and Amelia Bones lost their lives when they were trying to better the world. I'm not the only one suffering. I can put an end to it. Somehow, someday, I will. Even if I die in the process, so long as I take as many members of Voldemort's army, and Voldemort himself, with me."

Dumbledore felt a pang in his heart, an ache in his chest, at the determined set of the girl's emerald eyes, the willingness to die if it meant she would save people. "Your parents and Sirius would be proud," he said. "I suppose you've noticed the rumours circulating you and the Hall of Prophecy."

"That's why they deemed me the Chosen One, isn't it?"

"They made correct guesses, but only three people knew the contents of the prophecy. All anyone knows is that Voldemort tried to steal a prophecy and it was connected to you. Have you yet told Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger of what the prophecy said?"

"No. I didn't really want to tell Harry, but I knew it was necessary. Hermione and Ron, they've already been through enough. I don't want to scare them."

"You want to protect them," corrected Dumbledore knowingly. "You have shown over the years that you are a natural protector. But this is a time where you need your friends more than ever, despite the risks. Going alone is exactly what Voldemort wants."

"Yes sir," said Charlie quietly.

"Since you have performed spectacularly in your Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape, I believe it is time Harry learned the basics of guarding his mind against Voldemort, just to be on the safe side. It should not take long, considering you are both apt at performing mental blocks. In place of Occlumency, you will have private lessons with me."

Initially surprised, it turned into excitement at the prospect of being taught by Dumbledore. "What sort of lessons?"

"You will see," said Dumbledore simply. "Now, a couple of things. I would like you to keep your Invisibility Cloak on you at all times while at Hogwarts. You never know when you might need it. Arthur and Molly have been given the best and highest security the Ministry of Magic can provide while you are staying here. It comes at a slight inconvenience, but they care not, if it means your safety is ensured. In repayment, you will not leave the Burrow for any reason. It would be disrespectful to risk your life when they are doing so much to protect it."

"Yes, sir, of course."

Satisfied, Dumbledore inclined his head. "Let us go, then. Molly will be very unhappy if she knows I've kept her from you longer than necessary."

They left the shed and started for the Burrow, where there was a light shining in the kitchen window. Charlie felt her heart lift at the thought of the Weasleys, of her brother, and of her beloved school that she would soon be returning to.


	3. Results Are In

**I do not own Harry Potter. Charlotte Potter is my OC.**

* * *

 **Results Are In**

' _Harry, you awake?'_

' _Well, I am now. What's up?'_

' _Just thought I'd let you know I'm here.'_

' _You realize what time it is.'_

' _I thought you were anxious to see me.'_

' _I said everyone else was anxious to see you. I didn't say I was.'_

Smiling to herself, Charlie paused in front of the door. Dumbledore knocked twice and there was the sound of rushing footsteps coming from the other side. Harry's grinning face was soon revealed, but the smile hastily fell at Mrs. Weasley's sharp tone.

"Harry Lupin, you do not answer the door without doing the security procedure!" she scolded, coming up behind the boy and rapping him on the head with her wooden spoon. "It may have been a Death Eater on the other side!"

Cheeks flushing red, Harry said quietly, "I'm sorry. I just got, uh, excited."

"We must exercise caution in this time of danger and deception," spoke Dumbledore. "Come, let us have a word."

' _You're in trouble,'_ Charlie thought, hoping her mental voice matched the sing-song rhythm she wanted to convey.

Harry managed to refrain from shooting her a glare and she could feel his nervousness coursing through their bond like sharp pricks. Mrs. Weasley wrapped a robe over his pajamas, despite the summer heat, and Charlie cast a quick glance at Dumbledore, who winked at her. Charlie knew immediately he was going to speak with Harry about his upcoming Occlumency lessons under the guise of lecturing him of the importance of security measures.

She entered the house and Mrs. Weasley embraced her. "It's wonderful to see you, Charlotte. How are you? Are you hungry?"

"Just a little."

"I've got some soup leftover from dinner. I'll fix it up for you. You're much too thin. Were you fed properly?"

"Sure." At Mrs. Weasley's probing look, Charlie smiled. "They fed me three meals a day and by Dursley standards it's decent."

"Decent," sniffed Mrs. Weasley, and Charlie could tell exactly what she thought of the Dursleys by the look on her face. "Well, have a seat and I'll warm it up for you. Won't be a minute."

They entered the kitchen and Charlie smiled at the sight of Tonks sitting at the table. "Hi, Tonks!"

Tonks looked up and returned the smile, though it didn't quite meet her eyes. "Wotcher, Charlie." She stood up, pushing away the chipped ceramic mug. "I ought to be going. I've taken up enough of your time, Molly. Thanks for the tea and lending an ear."

"Why don't you join us for supper tomorrow?" invited Mrs. Weasley. "Mad-Eye and Remus will be coming over as well."

Tonks shook her head. "No, no, but thank you for the offer. I'll see you later. Bye, Charlie."

Charlie opened her mouth, wanting to ask if Tonks was feeling all right, but the woman swept by and left without looking at her. "Is…is she okay?" she asked Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh yes, she's fine dear."

The way her lips were pursed together didn't convince her, but she didn't press further. Charlie eased herself into the wooden chair Tonks had just vacated. Mrs. Weasley waved her wand and the pot on the stove began to bubble. A bowl of onion soup was placed directly in front of her, steam rising in gentle curls.

"Everyone will be delighted to see you," spoke Mrs. Weasley, sitting down opposite Charlie. "We weren't expecting you until tomorrow. I thought Harry was still asleep. Gave me a jump when he came stampeding down the steps. Might have looked out the window and saw two figures in the dark. He shouldn't have been so quick to answer the door, though I'm sure he'll remember from now on."

"We'll be more careful," promised Charlie. "How has everyone been doing?"

"Very well! Arthur got promoted in fact."

Smiling at the way Mrs. Weasley swelled with pride, she said, "That's amazing! What does he do now?"

"He's the head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. He's been extremely busy lately. With the return of You-Know-Who, all sorts are being sold to people desperate for protection. Just recently there was a box of cursed Sneakoscopes that Arthur reckons were done by a Death Eater."

Charlie felt a surge of disgust, unable to fathom how people could take advantage of the fear of others. "That's awful. Is Mr. Weasley still at work?"

"Yes, though he should have been back by now."

She turned her attention to the special family clock, where there were nine hands with each of the names of her family written on them. Charlie's heart sunk when she realized all of the hands were pointed at _mortal peril._ She looked at her soup, turning the thick liquid in circles. She knew that it wasn't just the Weasleys in mortal peril these days. But the thought of one of them dying by the hands of Death Eaters sent ice through her veins.

Another knock sounded and Mrs. Weasley hurried to answer it. A minute later Dumbledore walked into the kitchen, Harry in front of him and Mrs. Weasley following after the pair. "Well then, now that Charlotte is in safe hands, it is time for me to be off. I've got a meeting with Rufus Scrimgeour that I oughtn't be late for. Thanks as always, Molly."

"Of course."

Dumbledore bid the twins goodbye and departed from the Weasley residence. Harry sat down next to Charlie and rested his chin against his palm. _'Well, that was a slip-up on my part.'_

She managed to refrain from grinning. _'It's poor practice to throw open a door when Voldemort is out there casting the Imperious left, right and center. Let's not get started on Polyjuice Potion.'_

' _But I knew it was you! I just couldn't exactly explain how I knew that.'_

' _What did Dumbledore want to talk to you about?'_

' _He said to be a bit more careful about acting on our telepathy. He also said that Snape will be teaching my Occlumency during first term. But I suspected that much.'_

"Why so quiet?" asked Mrs. Weasley when the pair remained silent. "You don't have to worry about waking the others, they'll sleep through anything."

"Just thinking," said Harry. "Sorry again about being careless."

"No more apologizing," chided Mrs. Weasley. "It's forgotten. Have some soup."

Charlie hid a smile behind her hand as Mrs. Weasley levitated a bowl of soup towards Harry. Though he wasn't particularly hungry, the aroma was so inviting he couldn't refuse. Not that anyone ever successfully refused food from Mrs. Weasley.

As the pair ate, Mr. Weasley's hand on the clock drifted over to _travelling_ , and Mrs. Weasley brightened. "He's on his way!"

She rushed towards the door and Harry called after her, "Don't forget to ask the questions!" At Charlie's snort, he raised his hands innocently. "Just making sure we follow security measures."

After greeting Mr. Weasley and finishing their soup, Charlie and Harry headed upstairs. Harry nudged open the door to Fred and George's bedroom. Charlie bent down to scratch Snowflake's ears as she slunk around her ankles before darting off.

"I really don't need a room to myself," she said.

"I don't mind sharing with Ron and Hermione's fine with Ginny. The twins live above their business, so you might as well use this room."

"I guess."

"So what did Dumbledore want you for?"

"He needed my help in persuading an old colleague of his to return to Hogwarts to teach and it worked. Our new professor will be Horace Slughorn."

"He's an improvement over Umbridge, right?" asked Harry nervously.

"Oh, for sure."

At the yawn his sister let out, Harry said, "I'll let you sleep. I'm pretty exhausted myself." He embraced Charlie, murmuring, "I'm really happy to see you."

"Me too." Charlie hugged him tightly before stepping back. "Thanks for waiting up for me."

"No problem."

He left the room, shutting the door behind him. Charlie changed into her pajamas and collapsed into one of the beds, tugging the sheets over her body. Her eyes fell closed and she fell asleep almost immediately.

…

Something sharp jabbed into her side, startling her awake. She sat up abruptly, blinking rapidly to clear her sleep-hazed vision. When she could see clearly, she was greeted by Dobby's face looming close to hers, a wide grin on his features.

"Charlotte Potter!"

"Dobby," breathed Charlie, placing a hand over her pounding heart.

"Mrs. Wheezy told Dobby that you arrived last night! Dobby should have been awake to greet you."

"It's okay, it was late. I'm glad to see you now." Charlie gave her house-elf a hug. "How have you been?"

"Very good! Keeping everything nice and clean. Dobby wanted to prepare this room for you, but Mrs. Wheezy wanted to do it herself. Said there might be some nasty tricks and she didn't want Dobby to run into any."

"Yeah, leaving behind pranks and trick objects would be the sort of thing Fred and George would do," said Charlie in amusement.

"Did the Muggles treat Charlotte Potter all right?" asked Dobby anxiously.

"Well enough," she replied. "Hey, Dobby, when you get a second, could you do me a favour?"

"Of course! What is it?"

"There's a house-elf at Hogwarts I'd like you to keep an eye on when we get back. His name is Kreacher. He's helping out in the kitchens. Could you maybe pop over and introduce yourself before school starts? Help him out and just sort of…watch over him? He's kind of difficult. But he's my house-elf now as well, so I think you two should learn to get along."

"Dobby will help Kreacher with whatever he needs! We will serve Charlotte Potter together."

Charlie didn't think Kreacher would be so eager, but she also knew he didn't really have a choice. She figured Kreacher might take to Dobby if she wasn't in the same room, or at least the interaction hopefully wouldn't be as disastrous. "Just do your best," she said.

A knock sounded on the door and Dobby rushed over to open it. Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny spilled into the room. Hermione and Ginny went over to hug Charlie and Ron clapped her on the shoulder. "About time you woke up," he said.

"Leave her alone," chided Hermione.

"What time is it?" asked Charlie.

"Past ten," answered Harry.

"Whoops." Her stomach giving a low growl, she wondered, "Did I miss breakfast?"

"She's preparing a tray to be brought up to you. I think there's a tower of pancakes on it," said Ron with a snort. "She's going to make up for what the Dursleys didn't feed you. I hope you're hungry."

"Dobby will get Charlotte Potter's food!" Dobby insisted, and he vanished with a _pop_.

Ron pointed towards the spot Dobby vacated. "He's amazing, by the way. Mum loves him. Have I ever said thank you for letting us borrow him during the summer?"

"You have and it's no problem. Thank you for having him."

"Harry told us you went off with Dumbledore to find a new professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position," spoke Ginny. "Horace Slughorn?"

"Yeah. He used to be Head of Slytherin. But he's nice."

Ron pulled a face. "Slytherins can't be nice."

"Don't be so judgemental," said Hermione. "Not _everyone_ who belongs to Slytherin is evil. It's impossible."

"She's got a point," agreed Charlie. "He's a bit pompous and maybe a little bit arrogant, but I like him. He's no Draco Malfoy or Pansy Parkinson."

"Guess we'll see," said Ron dubiously.

"What's new with you guys?" asked Charlie, glancing around at her friends. "Anything interesting happen?"

Arching an eyebrow, Ginny glanced at Harry. "You didn't tell her?"

"No, I didn't really think of it," said Harry, flushing.

Charlie frowned. "Tell me what?"

Before anyone could answer, the bedroom door flew open and none other than Fleur Delacour sashayed her way across the floor, carrying a wooden tray piled with eggs, pancakes and bacon. "Charlotte Potter!" she exclaimed cheerfully, thrusting the tray into the girl's lap before leaning over and hugging her tightly. "Eet ees so good to see you again!"

"It's great to see you too!" said Charlie, managing to overcome her surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Fleur leaned back, brow furrowed ever so slightly. "Oh, zey 'ave not told you?"

"We've only been in here for two minutes," said Ginny bitterly. "Didn't have time to say much."

"Bill and I are getting married!" Fleur declared proudly.

"That's amazing!" said Charlie sincerely. "Congratulations!"

"Our wedding will be next summer. You are invited of course. Gabrielle cannot wait to see you again!"

"It'll be nice to see her again as well."

"I will let you eat breakfast. Enjoy!"

Wiggling her fingers, Fleur sauntered from the room, Ron and Harry glancing after as if in a trance. Ginny let out an irritated huff. "She says it like she made the food herself."

"I'm guessing that is what you forgot to tell me?" asked Charlie, spooning some eggs into her mouth.

"Yeah, she's been here a few days, getting to know all of us. It's been great."

"Says you!" snapped Ginny. "She's annoying. She's always talking down to me like I'm a toddler."

"She's pretty full of herself," agreed Hermione.

"Come on, she's not that bad. What does your mother think?" Charlie asked Ron.

"She's just worried they're rushing their engagement. I mean, it makes sense, with You-Know-Who powerful again. No one really knows what the future holds. I don't know what their problem is," Ron said, jerking a thumb at Ginny and Hermione. "I think it's great."

"Of course you do," said Ginny crossly. "You practically drool whenever she walks into the same room as you."

"It's not my fault," defended Ron. "It's her Veela heritage."

"Do you really want that shallow girl in our lives forever?" demanded Ginny.

"I don't see why not."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think Mrs. Weasley is going to let it happen as soon as they want."

"Definitely not," said Ginny strongly. "She's probably going to try and break them up. She keeps trying to get Tonks over for dinner or tea. Probably wants to set her up with Bill. I hope it works, she'd be a perfect addition to the family."

Ron wrinkled his nose. "If it's a choice between Tonks and Fleur I think it's pretty obvious who Bill will choose."

"Who, Phelgm?" scoffed Ginny disdainfully.

"Hey," said Charlie in disapproval. "That's pretty mean. I really think Fleur is trying her best. You shouldn't cut her down all the time."

Hermione frowned at Charlie. "You don't really think Bill should marry her, do you?"

"Why not? It's his life, it's his choice. I like Fleur. I think she really does love Bill. Why not give her a break?"

"I'll give her a break when I'm with you, but I make no promises otherwise," grumbled Ginny, crossing her arms.

"Does anyone know what's wrong with Tonks?" asked Charlie, changing the subject. "She doesn't look very well."

"She's been pretty upset lately," said Hermione. "I don't think she's quite gotten over from what happened to…well…her cousin."

It was said as gently as possible and Charlie felt the familiar stab of numbness in her gut. "Oh."

"Hermione thinks it's survivor's guilt, but I don't know," said Ron uncertainly. "I think it's something else. She didn't even really know him all that well."

"What else could it be?" countered Hermione.

"Uncle Remus has been trying to tell her it's not her fault, but she won't listen," spoke Harry. "I guess she's been having trouble changing her appearance because she's depressed."

"That makes sense. She looked pretty lackluster when she was here last night. Not a spot of colour on her." Charlie frowned, pushing her bacon around with her fork. "She shouldn't feel guilty. It's not her fault at all."

Ginny slid her a glance. "It's not anyone's fault."

Charlie did not agree with that, but she didn't say so. There was a _pop_ and Dobby appeared again, a bright smile on his face. "Mrs. Wheezy would like you to help with lunch," he said cheerfully to the female redhead.

"Why me?" cried Ginny.

"Mrs. Wheezy asked for you."

"She probably doesn't need my help at all. She just doesn't like being with Phlegm—er, _Fleur_ , alone." Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. "Why can't she come up here to tell me herself?"

"Shall Dobby tell Mrs. Wheezy you won't help unless she asks?"

"I dare you," challenged Ron.

Ginny glared at her brother. "I'd rather not get grounded for the rest of summer, thanks." Narrowing her eyes at Dobby, she demanded, "Why can't you help?"

"Dobby must go to Hogwarts for Charlotte Potter," returned Dobby. "Dobby would have gone right away, but Dobby was planning to get lunch for Charlotte Potter. _She_ brought it instead, so now Dobby must go."

When Ginny turned her gaze on Charlie, the raven-haired girl said sheepishly, "I mean…I did ask him to go to Hogwarts for me."

"He's good," she muttered under her breath. "Very good. You know he hasn't done a single order for Fleur? Always disappears or has something else to do." Pointing at Dobby, she added, "Teach me your tricks later. And I better see the rest of you downstairs soon. If I suffer, we all suffer."

She flounced out of the room and Dobby Disapparated off to Hogwarts to complete his task. Hermione stared at Charlie with interest. "Hogwarts?"

"Yeah. Sirius left everything to me. Including Kreacher. I sent Dobby there to introduce himself."

Ron was aghast. "You have _Kreacher_?"

"It's not Kreacher's fault, what he did," snapped Hermione defensively. "I know he can be mean and horrible, but no one's ever shown him anything else."

"She's got a point," agreed Charlie. "He knew what he was doing was wrong and I hold him responsible for it. But he's never had any good influences to show him otherwise. Hating him isn't going to do anything. It'll just make Kreacher worse. I forgive him."

"I make no promises," muttered Ron. He then grunted when Hermione punched him in the shoulder.

Harry glanced around the room, taking in the boxes stashed against the wall. He got up and went to peer into one of them. "What is all this stuff?"

"Prototypes, I think. Fred and George are always working on new stuff for their shop."

"What does it look like?" asked Charlie.

Ron shrugged. "Haven't actually been there yet. Mum doesn't like going anywhere without Dad and the extra security he can get. We'll definitely get to see it when we go to Diagon Alley to get our supplies. I can't wait. The shop is doing brilliantly and Fred and George are really happy with it."

"I'm glad they're successful, but I can only imagine what sort of tricks I'll have to deal with when school starts," sighed Hermione. "A prefect's nightmare."

"Better you than me," said Charlie. "Any word from Percy?"

"No. You think with proof that You-Know-Who being back he'd come crawling here with an apology. But not so much as a letter. He always did hate being wrong."

"Did you and Professor Dumbledore talk about anything interesting when you went to visit Professor Slughorn?" asked Hermione.

"Well, he's giving me private lessons this year."

"No way!" exclaimed Ron. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"Ginny was here, and I'm not sure this is news I'm meant to spread."

"Got it." Ron nodded. "What kind of lessons?"

"He didn't say."

"Do you think it's related to the prophecy?" asked Hermione hesitantly.

"Most likely." Taking a breath, Charlie glanced at her friends. "The newspapers have it right. The prophecy was about me and Voldemort. Dumbledore was the one the prophecy was told to, so he shared it with me. Neither of us can live while the other survives. Either I kill Voldemort or he kills me."

Hermione moved to sit on the edge of the bed and she took Charlie's hand. She was pale but her voice was controlled when she spoke. "I'm so sorry, Charlie."

"Don't be. I'd rather be the one to bear this burden. Besides, I wasn't really surprised. I always figured in the end I would have to face him."

"If Dumbledore's giving you lessons, then he probably knows there's a way for you to beat him," said Ron determinedly. "He wouldn't waste his time if he thought it was a lost cause, right?"

"Of course not," said Harry. "Maybe he'll teach her his tricks. He defeated Grindelwald, didn't he?"

"If you need any help at all, we're here for you," said Hermione firmly. "Even if you just need to talk. Okay?"

"Okay." Charlie smiled, warmth and gratitude flooding through her body. "Thank you."

"Don't be silly," dismissed Ron. "We're in this together. Whatever it turns out to be."

"Are you still continuing with your Occlumency lessons?" wondered Hermione.

Harry raised a hand. "No. But I'll be starting."

"Seriously?" said Ron, eyes wide.

"Harry and I have the ability to put up mental blocks to try and keep each other from feeling emotions or sending thoughts," explained Charlie. "We didn't really know what we were doing, it was instinct. We've gotten pretty good at mental blocks without meaning to."

"Dumbledore thinks using my mental blocks in relation to Occlumency will benefit me rather than hinder me," added Harry.

"You'll be having the lessons with Snape, right? That'll be weird," said Ron. "He's never really treated you as Harry Potter before, has he?"

"Er…I'm trying not to think about it," said Harry nervously.

"You'll be fine," soothed Charlie. "He understands that we're more than just James Potter's children. We're also Lily's. We're our own people. Just, uh, be careful around the Pensieve."

"Uh…okay," said Harry, bemused.

"We better get downstairs before Ginny comes back up and drag us down herself." Ron stretched his arms over his head. "Maybe our O.W.L. results came in."

"I don't think I'm ready," fretted Hermione. "I haven't prepared myself to see my grades yet!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you need a lot of preparation to see twenty _Os_."

"I didn't have twenty classes, don't exaggerate," snapped Hermione. "I'm certain I failed Ancient Runes."

"Considering the amount of information you were writing, I think that's impossible," said Charlie in amusement. "I'm the one who should be worried. I practically passed out during my History of Magic exam."

"I can't even remember what my answers were," muttered Harry. "I was so freaked out I couldn't think straight."

"To be fair, no one remembers anything they hear or write from History of Magic," pointed out Ron.

"I'm going to see if the owls arrived," declared Hermione and she rushed off.

Ron and Harry followed after her and Charlie got dressed before rushing to join them. She entered the kitchen to see Hermione pacing the floor, wringing her hands. Ron watched her, eyes following her anxious movement. "Hermione, seriously. We've gotten report card grades before and you've never failed anything."

"They weren't _O.W.L._ grades," said Hermione crossly. "These grades determine my future! If I fail one class, that lessens potential career paths for me to take!"

"Give me a break," grumbled Ron.

Mrs. Weasley paused her cooking to swat at Ron with a tea towel. "You'd do well to take this seriously," she scolded. "Fred and George were casual about their O.W.L.s and they barely scrapped together enough to pass."

"There's a difference between the twins and I. I actually studied." Ron paused and then added, "Don't tell them I said that."

"Here they come!" shrieked Hermione, rushing to open the window.

Four owls swooped in, each carrying a large square envelope. Charlie found the one bearing her name and untied it. She bit down on her bottom nervously as she pried open the flap. She removed a piece of parchment and started reading.

 _ **Ordinary Wizarding Levels  
Charlotte Lily Potter **_

**Ancient Runes: O  
Astronomy: E  
Care of Magical Creatures: O  
Charms: O  
Defense Against the Dark Arts: O  
Divination: E  
Herbology: E  
History of Magic: A  
Potions: O  
Transfiguration: O**

"Oh good," she said with a relieved sigh. "By some miracle, I managed to pass History of Magic."

"Come on then, how many _Os_ did you get?" asked Ron, grabbing Hermione's parchment from her hands. Letting out a dramatic gasp, he cried, "An _E_ in Defense Against the Dark Arts! Shame on you!"

"Shut up, Ronald!" Flushing, Hermione snatched her grades back. "Don't think I don't know you're just trying to stall. How did you do?"

Closing his eyes, Ron opened his envelope. He then cracked open one eye to scan his results. With a grin, he turned it around so everyone could see. "Even did decently in History of Magic. I always said hanging out with Ravenclaws had its benefits."

 _ **Ordinary Wizarding Levels  
Ronald Bilius Weasley**_

 **Astronomy: A  
Care of Magical Creatures: O  
Charms: E  
Defense Against the Dark Arts: A  
Divination: A  
Herbology: E  
History of Magic: A  
Muggle Studies: O  
Potions: E  
Transfiguration: E**

"You're welcome," sniffed Hermione.

"How'd you do, Harry?" asked Charlie.

"Great!" said Harry with a proud grin. "Wait until Uncle Remus sees this."

 _ **Ordinary Wizarding Levels  
Harry James Lupin**_

 **Astronomy: E  
Care of Magical Creatures: O  
Charms: E  
Defense Against the Dark Arts: E  
Divination: E  
Herbology: E  
History of Magic: A  
Muggle Studies: O  
Potions: E  
Transfiguration: E**

"Congratulations," praised Mrs. Weasley. "You all worked very hard. I'll make a special dessert tonight to celebrate."

"Thanks Mum," said Ron. Glancing at his friends, he added, "Guess we're N.E.W.T. students now."

Glancing down at her grades, Charlie could not help but wonder if all of her work would matter in the end. After all, there was no guarantee she would make it to her final school examinations, let alone graduate Hogwarts.

 _You've got the marks to be an Auror. To help people everywhere against Dark magic._

No, her future wasn't guaranteed. But so long as she kept breathing, she would strive to be a witch that would make a career out of helping people, creating a better world. Being an Auror would help her accomplish that, and her first order of business would be to defeat the greatest evil of them all.


	4. A Suspicious Slytherin

**I do not own Harry Potter. Charlotte Potter is my OC.**

* * *

 **A Suspicious Slytherin**

The first interaction between Dobby and Kreacher had gone about as well as Charlie expected, but was not as disastrous as she feared. Dobby returned to the Burrow, furious and speaking so quickly that his words were difficult to make out. But she got the gist of it—Kreacher was nasty and horrible and didn't deserve to serve a witch like Charlotte Potter. Dobby didn't have any marks on him, which meant they hadn't gotten into a physical fight, which was the worst Charlie imagined, so she felt some relief.

After letting her house-elf let off some steam for a few minutes, Charlie raised her hands in a calming manner. "Dobby, Dobby, hold on!" When Dobby quieted, his cheeks still puffed out with anger, Charlie continued speaking. "I know Kreacher…isn't very easy to get along with, but we both have to try."

"Kreacher isn't loyal to Mistress," said Dobby bitterly. "Kreacher will just cause trouble for Charlotte Potter."

Considering the amount of trouble Kreacher had already caused her, Charlie couldn't see how he could make things get any worse, but she refrained from saying so aloud. "We'll just have to keep an eye on him. He can't stay at that house all by himself and he knows too much to be let free. I need you to watch over him while we're at Hogwarts and if you need help you can come get me."

"Dobby will watch over Kreacher," Dobby agreed. "Dobby doesn't like Kreacher, but he will do as Mistress asks."

"You don't have to like him. Just try to be civil."

Dobby gave a nod. "Will Mistress be needing anything else?"

"No, I'm good. Thanks, Dobby. I appreciate your help more than I can say."

Dobby brightened at the praise and disappeared to see if Mrs. Weasley needed his assistance. Charlie got off her bed and went to retrieve her textbook, scratching Snowy's ears as she passed by the window sill.

After a half hour of studying, Harry appeared in the doorway, a sheen of sweat on his face and the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. "Ron and I are playing Quidditch. Do you want to join us?"

"Sure," agreed Charlie, setting her textbook aside. She grabbed her broomstick and followed after her brother. "Where's Hermione?"

"Doing the same as you—studying. But Ron managed to coax her outside. Have you always studied during the summer?"

"There isn't much else to do at the Dursleys, so it occupies my time. I just got into the habit. It pays off, though. Don't tell me Remus never makes you study during the holidays."

Harry pulled a face. "Of course he does, but I don't do it willingly like you do. It should be against the law to study during the summer."

Charlie grinned. "Good thing it isn't a law, or else it would just be another rule I've broken."

"Not the worst one ever," quipped Harry. "Maybe this will be the year you stay away from the Forbidden Forest."

"I don't know, I've got quite a streak going. I'd like to keep up with it."

They reached the downstairs and passed by the living room, where Ginny was stuck on the couch, her expression a blank mask as Fleur chatted to her about wedding plans, a one-sided conversation she seemed perfectly content to have.

"Hey, Ginny, we're going to play some Quidditch, do you want to join us?" asked Charlotte.

Ginny could have lit the room with the smile that crossed her face and she leapt from the couch. "Sure!"

She sped towards the front door and before Charlie followed after her, she turned to a rather affronted Fleur and said, "After our game I'd like to hear more about your wedding ideas, if that's okay."

"O' course, that would be lovely," said Fleur, recovering smoothly from Ginny's rapid escape. "We can talk about your dress. You would look radiant in green."

"Sounds great."

They filed out into the bright summer sun and Harry grinned. "Have I ever told you you should be a diplomat?"

"I think I'll stick with being an Auror. That's close enough, right?"

…

Charlie spent every morning pouring over the _Daily Prophet_ , which was suddenly filled with stories of violent attacks and strange disappearances. She wished for the days where she never read the _Prophet_ at all and missed very little by doing so. But now she felt guilty for not taking the time to read the news. She would be off at Hogwarts, under the protection of Dumbledore, and all of Voldemort's potential victims had almost no chance to protect themselves.

She tried to hide her early morning activity from Mrs. Weasley, but one day the woman found her tucked in the corner of the sofa, _Prophet_ rolled out in front of her as she read each word with a miserable, helpless expression. Mrs. Weasley promptly sent her to help with the laundry and after that day Charlie couldn't seem to get her hands on the paper.

Charlie appreciated what Mrs. Weasley was trying to do and she knew it wasn't healthy for her to obsessively read every horrible story with guilt stirring in her gut. But she needed to keep herself informed, about all the gruesome details. People were dying and if she could help it, she was going to read the names of them all.

She woke up on July thirty-first to her bedroom door slamming open. "Happy birthday!" said Hermione cheerfully, walking into the room and throwing open the curtains.

"What?" asked Charlie, sitting up and squinting against the sunlight. Snowy stretched out beside her, yawning before nimbly hopping off the bed.

"I said happy birthday."

"It's the end of July already?"

Hermione glanced over in bemusement. "You didn't forget your own birthday, did you?"

"Sort of." Charlie rubbed the back of her neck. "I've been preoccupied with other things."

"You haven't been getting Dobby to sneak you the _Prophet_ , have you?"

"Not recently. It was Harry yesterday." When Hermione shot her a look of disapproval, Charlie said, "I know, I know. I should stop. It's difficult, that's all."

"I know it is. At least take one day off from reading it. It's your birthday. It should be happy."

And Charlie's birthday was happy—for about three hours. Dobby gave her some flowers and Remus came over to for her birthday tea, embracing her tightly. But there were dark bags under his eyes and Harry regarded him worriedly. "What's wrong?" he asked as his guardian sunk into a chair after giving him a hug, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"Just got word that they found Igor Karkaroff's body in a shed far north. I knew it was coming, but I'm surprised he managed to last this long."

Charlie flinched. Karkaroff had not been a pleasant person but she had still hoped he would somehow manage to escape Voldemort's wrath. Her stomach sunk when Bill mentioned that both Ollivander and Florean Fortescue were missing, most likely dragged off by Death Eaters.

A sharp cough from Mrs. Weasley immediately ended the gloomy conversation, but the cloud hung over Charlie's head. Voldemort was creeping very close to home, and Charlie felt she had lost enough friends, family and acquaintances. She feared just how many more she would have to mourn by the year's end.

…

"Charlie, our book lists arrived!"

The raven-haired girl set her lunch dishes in the sink before answering her brother's summons. Harry, Hermione and Ron were already perusing the lists of texts they would need for the upcoming school year. Harry reached over the back of the couch to hand Charlie her envelope and she tore it open. Something shiny fell to the floor, clinking by her feet.

Brow furrowed in confusion, she bent down and lifted it up. When she read the inscription on the bronze and blue badge, her eyes tripled in size. "No way!"

"That's great!" exclaimed Harry when he realized what Charlie was so stunned over. "You're the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain!"

"You didn't have any idea?" asked Hermione.

"Definitely not. I barely played at all last year and I didn't exactly try to stay out of trouble with Umbridge. I'm surprised Eliza picked me."

"I'm not," said Hermione. "You're the perfect choice."

"Hopefully I'll get in a full year of Quidditch, or else I'll go down as the shortest-lived Captain in Hogwarts history."

It was the next morning when the kids piled into Ministry-appointed vehicles and were chauffeured to Diagon Alley. Mrs. Weasley was tense, her hands clutching tightly at her purse. Hagrid and Remus were waiting for them at the Leaky Cauldron when they arrived and together they trooped into Diagon Alley.

The brightness and cheer Charlie remembered was gone, replaced with a stifling atmosphere and a looming grey cloud. Most of the shops were closed or boarded up, and her shoulders slumped in dismay when they passed by Fortescue's empty ice-cream parlour and Ollivander's shop, where the windows were covered with boards and the door was nailed shut.

"We can start with Madam Malkin's," said Mrs. Weasley, scanning one of their lists. "Ron and Hermione need new robes."

"Since they're the only ones who need new robes, why don't they go with Hagrid?" suggested Mr. Weasley. "They can meet us at Flourish and Blotts and we'll gather the books they'll need."

"I can go with you," offered Harry. "I don't need robes and I can help get the books."

"Shall I go with you Hagrid?" asked Remus.

"We'll be fine," assured Hagrid. "It'll be jus' a quick trip."

"Where are you headed, Charlotte?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"I'll go to Madam Malkin's as well."

They went their separate ways, with Hagrid shepherding them down the street and putting himself between them and the shady vendors, who were trying to sell phony Defense Against the Dark Arts artifacts.

"I'll wait out here," spoke Hagrid when they reached the apparel shop.

"We shouldn't be long," promised Hermione and she nudged open the door, the tinkling bell signalling her arrival.

Madam Malkin was nowhere to be seen, but behind a clothes rack Charlie heard a very familiar and unwanted voice. "I don't know why I couldn't have come by myself," said Draco in annoyance. "I'm not a child, Mother. I don't need you to take me shopping."

The clothes rack stirred and Draco's pale blonde head appeared. Charlie grabbed hold of Hermione and Ron and dragged them behind a change curtain, swishing the material hastily behind them to block them from view.

"Why are we hiding from him?" whispered Ron furiously. "We have every right to be here, probably more than he does!"

"I am not in the mood to start something," said Charlie between clenched teeth. "And that's exactly what he does every time he sees me. Putting his father in Azkaban put the nail in my figurative coffin, and I'd rather not make it literal and be killed by him and his mother here."

"Oh, they're not going to try to kill you here," chided Hermione in a soft voice.

"I'd rather not take my chances."

She inched the curtain aside so she could take a peek. Draco was studying his appearance in the mirror while Malkin continued to pin up his robes. "I want to do the rest of my shopping myself."

"No," said Narcissa sharply. "And I will not say it again."

Draco's lips turned downwards in a frustrated scowl. When Malkin started to push his left sleeve higher, pin at the ready, he suddenly jerked backwards violently. "What are you doing?"

"I think this sleeve could use some adjusting—"

"It's fine," hissed Draco. He turned to study his appearance in the mirror and he declared, "You know what, I don't like them."

Malkin gave an offended squeak when Draco carelessly wrestled out of the green robe and tossed it to the ground. Narcissa barely batted an eye. "Of course, dear. We should have gone to a much classier establishment from the start. Let's go."

The Malfoys swept out of the store and Charlie let go of the breath she wasn't aware she was holding. "Well, the apple definitely doesn't fall far from the tree."

Ron sent her a quizzical glance. "What do apples have to do with this?"

"Never mind, it's just a figure of speech—of the Muggle variety."

Malkin gave a start when they appeared, nearly dropping the discarded robe. "Oh! I thought I heard the bell, but I didn't realize—what were you doing back there?"

"Didn't really want to interrupt your work," said Charlie. "Sorry to startle you. I need a new set of Ravenclaw robes, if you have time."

"Yes, of course, step right up here."

They left the shop with their new school robes and Hagrid started to escort them to the book store. "Did the Malfoys give you any trouble?" asked Hermione.

Hagrid scoffed. "Even the Malfoys know better than teh star' trouble in the middle o' Diagon Alley. Especially wit' Lucius in Azkaban. Oh, I've been meanin' teh say thanks."

"Thanks for what?" asked Charlie in bemusement.

Hagrid darted his eyes around the alley, as if afraid of being overheard. "Er…well, nothin' really. Oh, an' did I tell yeh tha' Bill gave me a Hippogriff teh look after?"

Hermione tripped in her surprise, squeaking out a, "What?"

"Yup! He didn't wan' teh leave 'im in Egypt while he came teh visit his family, so he gave 'im teh me teh look after. Witherwings is his name."

Hagrid gave them a knowing wink, which really wasn't necessary, since as far as Charlie was aware Bill only owned one Hippogriff. Buckbeak had once belonged to Hagrid, when she was in her third year, before a series events had led to the Hippogriff going to live with Bill. Now Buckbeak was Witherwings, probably dubbed so by Bill, since Charlie couldn't recall if she or Hermione had ever told Bill his actual name.

Hermione sent Charlie a glare and the girl shrugged. "Hey, the space-time continuum is still intact."

"Huh?" said Hagrid, brow furrowing.

Charlie waved a hand as Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron grinned. "Doesn't matter. I'm glad it all came full circle, Hagrid. That's great."

They reached the book store, where Mrs. and Mr. Weasley were waiting with Harry and Ginny, all of them carrying heavy packages. They went to the apothecary next, where Harry and Ron milled amongst the shelves while Charlie, Ginny and Hermione gathered the necessary ingredients.

"What are you doing?" asked Charlie, glancing over at the males.

"We didn't get the required Outstanding to take Potions," said Ron, stretching his arms over his head.

"Yeah, so why bother buying ingredients we won't be needing?" added Harry.

Remus, who was helping Charlie search for her supplies, sent a pointed look over his shoulder. "Try not to sound so happy about it, boys."

"It's not our fault Snape is ridiculously strict," replied Ron. "Every other professor requires an Exceeds Expectations to get into their N.E.W.T. level classes."

"You could try to speak with him and see if he'll make an exception," suggested Charlie.

"I don't think he likes us that much," said Ron. "And I'd rather not test my chances. I'm the only Gryffindor who doesn't get his head bitten off by Snape whenever he sees me and that's a reputation I'm fine with keeping."

After gathering their Potion ingredients, they finally made it to Fred and George's shop. In the dreary, fear-laden atmosphere of Diagon Alley, the brightly-lit and decorated building brought cheer. People were peering into the windows and Charlie could see that the place was packed.

When she walked through the doors, a wide smile broke across her face. There were bins of magical joke candy and trinkets, boxes packing the shelves and whirring gizmos in the window displays. Mrs. Weasley looked around, seemingly torn between pride and exasperation.

Fred and George came to greet them and after Harry, Ron and Hermione ran off to explore the shop the twins gave Charlie the tour. They took her to the back of the shop where they introduced to her their line of Defense Against the Dark Arts products. They gave her a couple of products and when she tried to pay for them, they waved her off.

"You're crazy," scoffed Fred. "You're the reason we have this place."

"Yeah, if it wasn't for you, we'd be in school right now," said George, making a face. "How terrible would that be?"

To her embarrassment, tears welled in her eyes and she hastily tried to scrub them away. Alarmed, Fred asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! It's just…I'm really glad you're doing so well. It makes me happy."

"And we'll do what we can to keep you happy," said George seriously. "Listen, if you ever need anything, anything at all, you ask us. Okay?"

"Okay. Thank you." Charlie smiled gratefully. "I really appreciate it."

"We appreciate you," returned Fred. "Now get out there and take whatever you want. Don't let Ron talk you into getting anything for him."

Bewildered, Charlie said, "I think it would make more sense to give your brother the free-for-all discount."

Fred waved his head. "We like you better and he knows it. He'll live. We already got him proper dress robes, we can't keep spoiling him."

"It'll go to his head," added George.

They entered the main store and George went to help some customers. Charlie reached the front of the store, where Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny were admiring something in a cage. Charlie peeked in at the fluffy balls rolling around. "What are those?"

"Pygmy Puffs," said Fred. "They make perfect pets."

"I want one," declared Ginny.

"Sure, for a price." Fred glanced at Ron and added, "You too."

"Are you serious?" snapped Ron. "I'm your brother!"

"I'm aware, I was there when Mum and Dad brought you home. Because of our family bond you'll get a ten percent discount."

Scowling, Ron nimbly dropped the armload of stuff he was carrying so that it scattered across the floor. Fred narrowed his eyes. "If you know what's good for you you'll pick up your mess and put everything back where you found it."

As Ginny went to ask Mrs. Weasley if she could buy a Pygmy Puff, Charlie glanced out the window and spotted Draco running past Fred and George's shop, shooting what she would describe as anxious looks over his shoulder as he went. Ron, Harry and Hermione, having spotted Charlie's attention was elsewhere, followed her gaze.

"That's suspicious," remarked Harry when Draco disappeared from sight.

"He's up to something really nasty," said Ron determinedly.

"What makes you say that?" asked Hermione.

"It's Malfoy, for one. He's always up to something nasty." Glancing at Harry, he said, "We ran into him at Madam Malkin's. He seemed really keen to get away from his mother. And if Malfoy needs to get away from his mother in order to do something…"

"I don't even want to imagine the possibilities," said Harry with a shudder.

"Why imagine when we can figure out what he's up to?"

Charlie groaned. "I was afraid you'd say that."

"You have your Cloak, don't you?" asked Ron in a hushed voice.

"Of course. Professor Dumbledore told me to always have it with me. But we're not supposed to go off by ourselves," said Charlie.

"No one will know. We'll pop off and be back before anyone knows we've gone."

Charlie's internal battle lasted only a second. Though she knew it wouldn't be wise to leave the shop, she had a strong feeling that whatever business Draco needed to take care of, it was going to have a negative impact on her.

Taking a quick look to make sure no one was watching them, Charlie took out her Invisibility Cloak and swept it over her and her friends in one fluid movement. They snuck out the door, past Hagrid and down the street, where they had seen Draco go.

"Uncle Remus is going to kill me," whispered Harry nervously.

"Only if we get caught," returned Ron.

"Because we never get caught," said Hermione sarcastically.

"I think my ankles are showing," said Harry.

"Then bend down," advised Charlie. "We're not as short as we used to be. Two of us decided to have growth spurts."

They couldn't see where Draco had gone, but when they reached the entrance to Knockturn Alley, Charlie had a pretty good idea of where the Slytherin had gone. "No. No no no. I've already been down there once before and I didn't like it."

"We have to check it out," insisted Ron. "If Malfoy needs something from Knockturn Alley it's going to spell trouble for everyone. We can catch him in the act and report him!"

Knockturn Alley was dark and ominous. But it was also empty, which gave Charlie some relief. At least if they tripped over the Cloak and accidentally revealed themselves, there would be no one to see them. They peered through shop windows and eventually screeched to a halt when they spotted Draco's blonde hair in Borgin and Burkes.

"He's excited about something," whispered Harry as Draco's hands swung about as he spoke, seeming hurried.

"Hang on, we can listen in to what he's saying." Ron dug an Extendable Ear from his pocket and, after setting it up, they all clustered even closer together to listen in.

"…all I need you to do is tell me how to fix the stupid thing."

"I'm afraid I can't do that without properly studying the item," said Borgin, his tone wary and fearful.

"Oh, you will. Or else."

Draco stepped forwards, suddenly disappearing from their view. Charlie craned her neck, but was only able to see Borgin's expression, which was one of pure terror. "Yes, yes, I will help you with your problem."

"You better, unless you want my family friend Fenrir Greyback to pay you a visit. Don't forget to keep that safe for me. I'll be needing it later on. Don't speak a word about our little conversation to anyone. Not even my mother."

Borgin gave a shaky nod and Draco swept out of the shop, looking rather triumphant. Charlie waited until he was out of sight before letting out a sharp breath. "Well. None of that sounded good."

"What do you think that was all about?" asked Harry.

"Malfoy needs something fixed and he also has something in there reserved." Ron frowned. "I wish we could get in there and find out what it could be."

"Maybe I can," started Hermione, starting to wiggle her way out of the Cloak, but Charlie stopped her.

"Bad idea. I don't sixteen-year-olds regularly walk into his establishment and he's going to be immediately suspicious."

"Malfoy went in there," pointed out Ron.

"Yeah, but he's a _Malfoy_. His father is in Azkaban for being a Death Eater. Of course Borgin isn't going to be suspicious of him. But us? We stick out like sore thumbs in this place."

"Well, we can at least tell my dad," said Ron. "We caught Malfoy dealing with Dark artifacts."

"I don't think it's a crime to walk into a place like this," said Charlie slowly. "He didn't buy anything."

"Besides, do you want to be the one to tell your mother we snuck out from under her watch to come to Knockturn Alley just because Malfoy looked suspicious?" asked Hermione with a raised brow.

"You know what, never mind," said Ron instantly. "We don't really have much to tell Dad anyway."

They made their way back to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, where they found Remus, Mrs. Weasley and Hagrid scanning the street with very concerned expressions.

"I can't believe they slipped off," Mrs. Weasley was saying. "They know better! Where could they have gone?"

With great care the foursome inched past the adults and entered the shop. They hastily entered the back room and Charlie ripped of the Cloak, stuffing it into her bag. "Who's going out there first?"

"Not me," said Ron immediately.

Hermione glared at him. "This was your idea!"

"None of you had to go along with it!"

"Let's just get this over with," said Harry. "What's our story?"

"We never left this room," said Ron. "And we've never heard of Knockturn Alley and have no clue where it is."

"That'll convince them," muttered Hermione under her breath.

They stepped out from behind the curtain, which George noticed at once. "Mum!" he called, shooting a suspicious narrow-eyed glare at them. "They're here!"

"Where have you lot been?" demanded Mrs. Weasley.

"Did yeh use yeh-know-what teh get past me?" asked Hagrid sharply.

"You kids better not have snuck off," snapped Remus.

Ron held up his hands in a defensive manner. "I don't know what you're talking about! We've been in the back room this whole time."

"Young man, don't lie to me! I checked that room and you were nowhere to be seen," said Mrs. Weasley furiously.

"We were tucked away in a corner, going through Fred and George's stuff," said Ron with a shrug. "Don't know how you could have missed us."

"Do you have your Cloak on you?" Remus asked, keeping his voice low, though it would be very difficult to overhear him over the sound of the crowd that surrounded them.

"Of course. Professor Dumbledore told me to keep it on me at all times," replied Charlie.

"We were just poking around," said Harry, rubbing the back of his neck and managing not to look guilty when he looked Remus right in the eye. "Sorry to scare you. We didn't realize you were looking for us."

"You didn't go anywhere?" asked Mrs. Weasley suspiciously.

"No," answered Charlie.

The three adults clearly did not believe them. Crossing his arms over his chest, Remus said to Harry and Charlie, "It's not going to go well for you if I find out you're lying."

"Right," said Harry.

"Got it," said Charlie.

"We're leaving now," said Mrs. Weasley, shooting a glare at each of them. "Say goodbye to Fred and George."

The four teens said their farewells to the twins (and Ron received a smack on the back of the head for not picking up the merchandise he dropped previously) before filing out of the shop, Hagrid keeping an eagle-eye on them all the way back to the Ministry cars.


End file.
